Icy Waters
by Kurachu
Summary: random one-shot i wrote, see if you like it. PS im back! not that its a big deal... R&R xxx


**Icy Waters**

I felt nothing.

I was just me, and the knowledge swept over me like a shower of gentle rain.

No anger, betrayal, cruelty or fear. Just sweet gullible me.

And her.

She never really did anything. Not a coo or a giggle or a sweet face. She just gazed at me in that unblinking way that children do. Just there. Maybe an image. Or a memory.

My thoughts were a muddle. I crawled up a never-ending tower, like shoving your hand into an ice-cold bucket, searching for a treasure that was maybe an illusion. You couldn't guarantee you would find anything. The yearning desire, the one that I couldn't quite place may never be satisfied.

And there was him.

He flitted through my mind frequently and I couldn't give him a name, but rage boiled through me every time he slid into my mind. I hadn't the faintest idea why. Maybe he was a long lost lover, and there had been quarrels or deceit. Maybe he was linked to her.

The little one.

There it was again. The soft sobbing. It vibrated through my mind, setting my senses blazing. Everything was as sharp as a broken crystal when she cried. And the sound pierced through my veins.

Painful.

Every so often shards of memory would thrust into my mind. Of fights and screams. And then she would come. The little one.

My little one.

He would come and she would vanish, wailing. Maybe she wanted a feed, or a cuddle. Or maybe she was frightened. Who were they, I often wondered, was she happy?

Anxiety flew into me like a nervous bird, being chased by prey. Soon the predator would pounce. The bird would realise, but it would be too late.

Concern surged through me. "Come, little bird." I tried to call her, as I had done countless times. She froze in midair, her beady eyes focused on me. She blinked, in her bird-like confusion. She opened her beak.

"I can't come." I jumped. Birds didn't speak, did they?

The bird, however, ruffled her feathers, oblivious to my half-anxious confusion.

"I am you," she said simply.

Silence.

There she comes again, although she is always in the murky depths of my mind, like a distorted photograph hidden in the bottom of a favourite handbag. But this time it was different. She was clear. She was real. Then there was a man, not the man I seemed to hate, but a different one. A nice, kind, blonde haired man, with a kind of fatherly affection. The oddest thing was though, that he was clearer than the rest. He would smile and I would remember good things. Of trips and parties and crowds of people who seemed to know and care about me. And this time I knew his name.

I tried to imagine my life, my childhood, and all the little things you seem to forget when you are older. Cookies, a hug with mum, the fourth birthday party, when you are old enough to appreciate the large stack of presents that have been given to you. Playing in the park, your first day of school and the silly games with Barbie Dolls that seemed so important back then.

Like her, and the innocent importance of all fragile things.

Click.

A ping of realistion shot through me and somehow I knew his name…

"Get out!" The scarlet scream tore through my lips before I had time to contemplate it. "Leave. Now."

I could hardly speak, just stutter, but every word from my lips were as sharp as blades. I wasn't like this. I shouldn't be like this. He stared at me, clearly nonplussed by my sudden splurge of anger. Breathing deeply, I turned away. Out of the corner of my eye, however, I saw him edge out of the room.

Towards her room.

"Leave her alone. Go. Leave my daughter alone!"

My daughter….

She bounded into my mind. She was just the same as the memory. She was the girl I had been aching to place. But I knew nothing about her. I didn't even know her name.

"Why did you do it, why? He wasn't anything, you're everything to me! Hell, I have had to put up with so much and now this. You didn't pause, did you, for one second to see how this would affect me, did you? Never mind it'll tear us apart, there's just you and your sick little jealousy. He was my friend!"

He stood by the cot, his arms reaching out for the wailing girl. I slapped him away, viciously. I picked her up delicately and took her out of the room. Holding her in one of my arms, I unfolded the travel cot, and placed her into it, muttering for her to go to sleep. She didn't need to hear this. He was stood in the doorway, his eyes prickling with soft tears. I pushed him out of it, hard and half-dragged him into our room.

"Get away from here." I was calm.

He shook his head.

"Go, you murderer!"

The tears were streaming silently down his cheeks, like shy children longing for attention.

"You- you really think that?"

I shook my head in disbelief.

"Of course. You have just committed the ultimate crime, in cold blood. She doesn't need to grow up with that. The shame of having a jail-clad father. Imagine her pain and mistrust. She doesn't need you. I don't need you."

I stopped, unrealistically short of breath, I glanced at him.

Pain.

Through blurred vision I heard myself scream and felt that cold trickle of blood sliding down my neck. The door clicked shut.

Again, as before, I saw Declan and I saw him. Only things had changed. The blood from my neck was gushing through his wound. My friend was dying.

My hand dipped into the bucket again, my nerves were screaming but I had found the treasure. Jubilation rang through me, but it was a cruel joke. I could not see, couldn't touch it-it was cursed.

And my daughter.

I could name her now.

Callie.

She was gone.


End file.
